


Sinking Ship

by starswholisten



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cassian is fussy, F/M, Injury, More Nessian trash from yours truly, Nesta Kicks Ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starswholisten/pseuds/starswholisten
Summary: In which Nesta gets injured and Cassian realizes what's most important to him.





	1. Like A Sinking Ship Out There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nessian_is_fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessian_is_fire/gifts).



It had been six days since Cassian had told her.

Six days since he had been blissfully alone with her on the balcony of the House of Wind. Six days since she had shed some of her walls and six days since they had kissed for the first time. It had been six days since he had uttered those three fateful words to Nesta Archeron: _You’re my mate._

Six days since she hadn’t rejected him.

She hadn’t accepted the bond either, not yet. But when he told her, she didn't balk or run away in fear or even knee him in the balls. She just said, “I know."

And they discussed it, their bond, and Nesta told him that she need time to adjust to her new Fae body and her new life, and he respected it. He understood. He was happy enough that she didn’t reject the bond outright. That there was hope for them. Cassian would wait for her for five hundred years on the promise of that hope alone.

But there was another small part of him, the logical part that told him that war was coming. That they had limited time. But he would never bring this point up, and he would never try to rush her. So he simply found every possible excuse to spend time with her. It was enough.

Which was how Cassian found himself in the forest several miles outside of Velaris, the sun rising and his mate trudging through the mud a few feet in front of him.

He had been training her how to use her power weeks before his admission, but now that his wings were fully healed and they felt a little more comfortable around each other, they would be at it from dawn to dusk, nearly every day of the week, and in much more secluded areas. He was the only one that knew the true extent of her power, the only one, she told him, that she trusted with that knowledge.

“Stop here,” Cassian called to her, halting on a flat expanse of ground with a sparse enough tree cover that Nesta wouldn’t set the whole forest ablaze.

She turned and scowled at him. “It’s muddy here. There’s a drier area right up this hill. I can see it."

“As much as I’d like to know if you can start a forest fire, sweetheart, I think you might put the people of Velaris in mortal peril,” he mused, and Nesta rolled her eyes at him. “We stay here."

“Fine,” she walked toward him and stopped several feet away, her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing Illyrian fighting leathers, a stark contrast to her typical attire of modest dresses, and it was an effort for Cassian not to stare. No matter how many days a week they trained, the sight of Nesta in those leathers would always drive him crazy.

“Enjoying the view?” she smirked, and Cassian gave her a rude gesture that she liked to give him at least three times a day. “Better than what you see in the mirror every morning, isn’t it? You don’t have to ogle me for me to know I look good in these fighting leathers."

“Okay,” Cassian held his hand up and Nesta raised an eyebrow. “Quit mouthing off. I’d rather see some literal fire than listen to your spitfire insults."

“But my insults are so clever,” she mused, lifting one hand from where it had been crossed over her chest to inspect her nails. She sighed. “What first?"

Cassian adjusted his stance so that his feet were shoulder-width apart, his wings tucked tight into him. “Hit me. With whatever you have."

Nesta smiled. “With pleasure.”

He shielded from her first blast easily. She always started with a ball of fire, no matter how many times he stressed that she needed to switch it up. If she used the same opening move in every battle, she’d become predictable. But she claimed the fireballs warmed her up. Indeed.

The next move almost caught him off guard. She blasted a wave of white hot heat around him at the same moment she clawed at his mental shields, and he barely managed to reinforce his wall of adamant as he deflected the heat.

She made a few cheap shots next. A lick of flame at his feet, a puff of smoke in his face, and piercing sparks directed at his wings. He, obviously, focused all of his energy on protecting those newly-healed Illyrian wings, and he began to cough furiously from the smoke. Nesta cackled.

And, suddenly, without warning, Nesta winnowed. She’d done it before, but only mere feet, and it always threw off her balance. This time, she winnowed into the tree above him and blew a cloud of smoke onto him from above.

Cassian cursed, and Nesta kept laughing. He would have called her a bitch, once, but now he just wanted to let her keep going, if it would make her laugh just one more time. He wanted to live inside her laughter.

When the smoke cleared, he looked up at her sitting in the tree, playing with the sparks on her fingertips.

“You’ve been practicing?” he asked her between coughs.

“Perhaps,” she chirped, and winnowed again so that she was standing before him, leaning against a nearby tree.

“I’m impressed, sweetheart.” The smile playing at her lips was too much. He was distracted, and he knew he should probably get himself together and actually train her, but… they had all day. Right now he wanted to play with a different kind of fire. He walked toward her, and she stood her ground, her chin tipping up to keep eye contact with him. “But that was your goal, right? To impress me?"

“It’s your ego that’s impressive,” she retorted, rolling those blue-grey eyes at him again, and he damn near lost it.

He braced his hands on the tree trunk on either side of her head and smirked. “That may be true,” he considered, pressing himself closer to her. She didn’t flinch. “I can think of parts of me that are bigger, though."

She laughed again, and Cassian’s heart nearly fell out of him. “Feyre did tell me a little something about wingspans,” she crooned, reaching out an arm and brushing his wing ever so slightly.

He was going to die. Right here. Nesta Archeron was going to kill him. And he wouldn’t regret it at all.

“What was it she said? Hmmm,” Nesta said thoughtfully as she stroked his wing, and he closed his eyes against his will. He couldn’t help it.

And in that moment of distraction, Nesta, with all of her damn Fae speed, slipped from beneath his arms. When he whirled around, she was on him, and backed him into the tree, his wings pinned behind him. She placed her arms lower than where his had been, as she was too short to place them beside his head. Instead, she pressed her hands into his chest, pushing him against the tree trunk, and gave him a satisfied smile.

“Right. You Illyrian males think with those _impressive wingspans_ rather than your own brains."

He was going to burst into flames. Her hands weren’t flaming with her magic, but he felt them burning into his chest nevertheless.

Cassian could feel her leaning closer, her chest now pressed into his, and she whispered into his ear, “I heard yours were smaller than Azriel’s."

He chuckled, and leaned in to whisper into her pointed ear. “I guess you’ll have to see about that-"

Before he could finish, Nesta screamed in pain, and collapsed into him. He caught her and looked down to see an arrow protruding out of her thigh.

An ash arrow.

“Nesta, we need to find cover,” Cassian said, immediately focused like the warrior he was, and he scooped her up into his arms, spreading his wings to shield her.

She was more important than his wings. That much he knew.

He wouldn’t risk flying though, not in the open sky above them, where they would be easy targets. So he ran. He ran up the hill, holding Nesta tightly, and searched for any incoming arrows and any indication of the pict who had fired the first one.

No more arrows came for them, however, and Cassian found a nearby area thick with brush and tall grass. He laid Nesta down and bent over to inspect the injury.

“What the hell was that?” Nesta said through gritted teeth, obviously trying hard not to cry out again.

“Not sure,” Cassian said as he looked at the angle of the arrow in her outer thigh, sighing with relief when he determined that it hadn’t hit an artery. “But we can’t stay here, and I can’t fly us in the open sky. We’ll have to find whoever-"

Before he could finish his sentence, something hard and swift hit him in the back of the head. And everything went black.


	2. I Will Get To You, Before I Go Sinking Too

Cassian came to about twenty minutes later, judging by the position of the sun, and the first thing he noticed was that she was gone.

He panicked.

Cassian stood up too fast and stumbled, still dizzy from the blow to his head, which was becoming a rather painful bump. His leg felt like it was going to give out, a lack of sensation spreading over his entire left side. He ached. He didn’t care.

She wasn’t in the grass, she wasn’t in the trees, she wasn’t anywhere.

_Where was she where was she where was she_

“Nesta,” Cassian called, before sense made him realize that he probably shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself. He cursed under his breath and made himself stop and think. He put his pounding head in his hands and tried to collect his emotions and shove them into a tiny box in the corner of his heart. It was hard. He had never felt anything like this panic in any of the battles he’d ever fought in, not even when Azriel was hit in Hybern, not even when his wings were shredded.

Well, once, he had felt this panic. He remembered feeling this way when Nesta was thrown into that Cauldron. And he couldn’t save her.

He had to save her this time.

Lethal calm set in, and he lifted his head, balling his hands into fists. He focused on that one avenue of communication, the one that was strengthening every day, the one the enemy wouldn’t know was there. _Focus._

And he felt her, faintly, lingering at the end of the tether that was their mating bond. He realized the dull ache in his leg was actually hers, realized that his exhaustion was hers. She was awake, but barely, and he needed to locate her before she was unconscious entirely.

The fact that he could feel her meant three things: she was close, she wasn’t bound with Hybern’s chains, and she was alive. Thank the Mother, she was alive.

Cassian latched onto her scent, the wildfire and jasmine, and tugged on that bond deep within him.

And he took flight.

The trees were sparse in this area of the forest, and he could see the skyline of Velaris just over the horizon. It was nearly noon now, and nobody would think anything of their absence until the sun set. Whoever had attacked had known that much, at least. He would gut the prick without a second thought.

As Cassian flew, he felt Nesta fading into unconsciousness, and he latched desperately onto her. _I’m coming, sweetheart. Don’t fade now, stay awake, let me find you._ He pushed the words down the bond with reassurance and warmth and he hoped they would be received.

_Let me find you._

Her scent was growing stronger, so he decided to land and search on foot. When he reached the ground, there was a trail of blood, her blood, and he felt the quiet fury rise up inside him and threaten to consume him. His siphons glowed red as he followed the trail. Nesta’s consciousness faded and faded and went out.

Cassian cursed again, entering a clearing, and drew his Illyrian blade. Suddenly, like a wave crashing over him, her wildfire and jasmine filled the air, mixed with the scent of smoke and ash and gore. He ran.

“Nesta,” he said, his voice a lot calmer than he felt. “Nesta, where are you?” The blood on the ground was thicker here, mixed with ashes and dimming embers, and bile rose in his throat. This looked like a lot of blood for a simple leg wound-

His eyes rested on a ripped tatter of a sleeve peeking out from behind a bush.

_Shit shit shit shit shit_

As he got closer, he saw a boot peeking out too. Too big to be Nesta’s.

Cassian rounded the corner and saw not Nesta, but a High Fae male, burnt and bloodied and hovering within an inch of his life. There was an ash arrow in his shoulder and soot covered his blistering face. Cassian could just barely make out the sigil of a rising sun on his burnt clothing. Dawn Court.

He sheathed his blade. With a flick of his hand, he ended the pict’s misery. He would think about the politics of this later. Because just beyond the Dawn Court sentry-

“Nesta,” Cassian blurted, running and then bending down beside his mate, who was unconscious in the grass. The arrow had been pulled from her leg, which explained the blood and the arrow in the pict’s shoulder. The wound was already infected, likely the result of whatever poison had been in that arrow. In addition to her leg, her arms were bruised in several places and there was a gash across her forehead. Her clothes were burned as well, though likely that was her own doing.

She had fought, Cassian realized. She had fought the sentry and she had kicked his ass. Cassian lifted her gently from the ground into his arms and kissed her forehead where it wasn’t injured.

“Cass…” Nesta muttered as she came to, opening her eyes slightly to make sure it was indeed him holding her. A smile ghosted her face and she groaned. “You found me."

“I’ll always find you, Nesta,” he whispered. “Though it looks like your training came in handy."

“I… used a… fireball, you prick,” she said slowly, her impeccable knack for insulting him untouched in her injured state. He allowed himself to laugh.

“Let’s get you home. You need a healer."

“Home…” she muttered, nuzzling into his chest.

Cassian kissed her brow again and took flight, heading for Velaris, his home. And maybe it was her home too.

\----

When he landed in the House of Wind, Mor and Feyre were sitting in the dining room, and both women dropped their mugs of tea and came running over to them.

“Cassian, what happened?” Feyre asked, panicked, as Mor placed her hand on Nesta’s wound.

“We were attacked. They knocked me out and hit Nesta with an ash arrow,” he said, turning to Mor. “It was poisoned, I think."

Mor nodded. “I’ve never seen this kind of poison before. We need to get her to an actual healer,” she told him.

Cassian growled and snatched Nesta from her grip. “Of course the rutting Dawn Court would use an unknown poison. They’re probably the only ones with the cure."

“Dawn Court?” Feyre asked, her face paling.

“The attacker was wearing their sigil,” Cassian snarled as he made his way to his bedroom. “Send for a healer. Tell them to hurry, or they’ll have to answer to me."

Cassian exited swiftly as both women winnowed out, Mor to find a healer and Feyre likely to alert Rhys of the threat from the Dawn Court. He carried Nesta to the nearest room, his bedroom, and set her down gently in his bed. She was still out cold, but her face contorted in pain, and he wanted it to go away, damn it all. He sat right beside her on the bed, gently smoothing her hair and sending comfort down their bond until Mor and the healer arrived several minutes later.

“Cassian,” Mor said, grabbing his hand. “We need to let the healer do her job."

“I’m not leaving her."

“Cass-"

“Mor. I’m not leaving her,” he growled, snatching his hand away from hers. Mor gave him a knowing look laced with concern, and he tore his eyes from hers. He didn’t have to explain himself to her. She’d do the same for Azriel.

Cassian didn’t notice her leave. His attention was wholly on the healer and Nesta. He let her do her job, never interrupting, but he held Nesta’s hand the whole time, and watched as the pained expression gradually left her face.

The healer left after a few hours, the poison completely leeched from Nesta’s system, and promised to return in the morning to heal the remainder of the wound. Cassian nodded and thanked her, and began his vigil at Nesta’s side, waiting for her to wake up. Rhys came in around dusk, asking if Cassian needed anything, but he had simply growled at him to leave the room and Rhys didn’t question him.

Cassian knew he was being ridiculous, but something deep within was screaming at him to protect her from everyone and everything, and it was consuming his common sense. He felt bad about it, however, and when Feyre and Elain had come into the room an hour later, he’d stepped out to give them a minute of privacy.

Nesta slept through the night and Cassian sat beside the bed all the while, changing the bandage on her thigh with the utmost care when the blood soaked through the fabric. He adjusted her pillows, warmed her blankets, and even combed his fingers through her knotted hair.

He was fussing.

Some time around dawn, he fell asleep beside her. He gave her enough space on the bed that she wouldn’t freak out if she woke up before he did, but the pull between them was too much not to at least cover her hand with his and shelter her in his wings as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke to Nesta mumbling, and jolted upright in the bed, sliding off to kneel beside her. “Nesta?"

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking at the brightness, and looked down at him. “Where am I?” she asked, her throat dry and cracking.

“Here, drink this,” he handed her a glass of water and helped her sit up enough to drink it. “We’re at the House. You’re okay."

She swallowed the water with some difficulty and coughed, and Cassian adjusted her pillow. “Are you okay?” Nesta croaked, looking him up and down once, searching for injuries.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assured her, and she smiled.

“Good,” she said, adjusting against the headboard. “Because I’ve seen you injured, and you’re more fussy than a child.” She looked at him pointedly. “Though I’ve never seen you quite _this_ fussy."

“There she is,” he flicked her nose gently, and she scowled at him before flicking him back.

The door opened, and Rhys and Feyre poked their heads in. Feyre’s face lit up. “You’re awake! Oh, Nesta, are you-"

Cassian wondered absentmindedly where the growl that had filled the room was coming from before he realized it was coming from him. He stopped, giving his High Lord and High Lady an apologetic look, but Rhys only smiled at him. He touched Feyre lightly on the arm and said, “We’ll come back. Glad you’re okay, Nesta."

When they left, Nesta snorted, making Cassian jump. “What was that all about?” she asked, shoving his arm. The life was already coming back into her and Cassian could just about die from relief.

“Mating bond. Not something I can help,” he mused.

“Was that how you found me?” Nesta asked, her face unreadable. Cassian nodded.

“I could feel…” she started, and rubbed her head. “I could feel you looking for me. I could feel you in my head… talking to me. And it made me stay awake. It made me feel less scared."

Cassian looked down at the floor for a moment, and then back into those blue-grey eyes. “Were you scared because you thought I wouldn’t find you?"

She shook her head. “No,” she said quickly. “I knew you would come. Even if I hadn’t felt you through the bond…” she paused, her fingers finding his on the bed. “I knew you would find me."

They stared at each other for a moment, something passing between them. They didn’t have to say anything, didn’t _want_ to say anything to acknowledge it. It was simply there.

“But next time you try to bitch about my fireballs,” Nesta broke the silence, smirking. “I’ll send some fire into _your_ balls."

And he couldn’t take it anymore. Damn the consequences, Cassian leaned in and kissed her. To his delight, she returned the kiss eagerly, her free hand finding its way into his hair as he cupped her jaw.

He broke the kiss, if only because she needed rest, and stood, his eyes never leaving hers. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“You need rest. And I need to check if the healer is here."

He made for the door, stretching his wings out as he went, but she called his name. He turned around, eyebrows raised in silent question.

“Can you stay with me? For a few more minutes, just…” she paused, sighing. This was hard for her to ask, and Cassian was amused to no end, but he said nothing. He just walked back over to the bed and laid down next to her, gathering her into his arms. She melted into him, the fire in her blood warming him, and he kissed her head.

“I’ll stay with you for as long as you want."

“I’ll probably get tired of you at some point,” she said into his chest.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

**Author's Note:**

> Titles of the work & the chapters are from Sinking Ships by Seafret.


End file.
